


box sledding is a highly competitive sport

by mumblybee



Series: Coffee Shop AU [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M, Gen, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblybee/pseuds/mumblybee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just a small tumblr prompt response! Takes place maybe a month after the first coffee shop AU fic. Featuring a light dusting of yorkalina as per usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	box sledding is a highly competitive sport

They go sledding. 

They go sledding, because York won’t shut up about how great the hill by the post office would be for sledding, if anyone, y’know, wanted to sled, just sayin’, like, if you wanted to – and Carolina feels sorry for him. That’s it. She just feels sorry for him. Yeah. That’s why she drags two of the bigger left-over cardboard boxes out of the coffee shop and onto the snow-covered sidewalk when her shift ends, ignoring Connie’s raised eyebrow. (And, just for the record – it’s not fair, that Connie can raise one eyebrow. Why can’t she raise one eyebrow? She’s tried. She’s practiced. All she did was develop an eyetwitch. She should practice more.)

“I’m twenty-two years old,” Carolina announces, standing atop the hill now beside York, who is either vibrating with excitement or with cold. She looks at the state of his scarf – well, South’s scarf actually, South’s bright pink scarf – in mild disapproval. Almost automatically she reaches out to tuck it into the collar of his coat a little better. He gets that look on his face when her gloved hand brushes his neck, that dazed look, and she feels her cheeks flush slightly.

“I’m twenty-one,” York announces back, recovering quickly. “Also, I’m a sagitarri – no, wait, that’s not right, I think I’m a–”

“I’m twenty-two years old,” Carolina repeats, louder, deadpan, “and I’m going sledding.”

“Carolina,” York says, very seriously, staring at her through the light dusting of snow that’s started up again. “Carolina. Listen, Carolina. Listen. Caro–”

“What?” Carolina snaps, resisting the urge to push him into his cardboard box and let him and his dorky, overeager expression slide down the hill. 

“You are never too old for sledding,” York says solemnly. A snowflake lands directly on the tip of his nose and he blinks, then burrows a little into his scarf.

It’s cute. Carolina is infuriated.

“I’ll race you,” she says shortly, turning away to climb into her box-sled.

“I’m gonna win,” he says. She can hear the grin in his voice, scarf-muffled.

“You’re not gonna know what hit you,” she retorts, and she pushes off, gloved hands gripping tight to the cardboard, more awake than she’s felt in a long, long time.


End file.
